Congratulations are due!

Congratulations to Fuller, my dear red-haired girlfriend, on her engagement! However, even after you marry, you will still be "Fuller" to me!

Do Not Watch

Husband and I recently got a subscription to Netflix, and we are loving it. We currently have the basic package and are able to receive one movie at a time. We may upgrade later (we aren't planning to have cable television when we finally get into our own home, thus necessitating movie entertainment), but the situation suits our needs for now. Even better, with subscriptions Netflix also offers movie streaming (I guess that's the right word...) through Husband's Xbox for certain titles, so as long as the movie is in our online queue, we can watch it whenever we want. I took full advantage of this opportunity by watching the Newsies, a rousing musical about paperboys with thick New York accents from the Pulitzer/Hearst muckraking days. What more could a person ask for in a musical? Oh yeah, did I forget to mention a young, verile, singing, dancing, prancing Christian Bale? You are "The King of New York," Christian. Oh, yes, you are.

A few days later our copy of Be Kind, Rewind dropped into our mailbox. Husband and I haven't turned off a movie since watching Sideways while students at Dinky College. Until now, that is. Jack Black's characters tend to be a little over-the-top, but are generally funny and loveable. Not so in Be Kind, Rewind. The plot was shoddy, the dialogue was unintelligible, the characters were off-putting, and the whole thing was generally confusing, unrealistic, and annoying. The movie stock of a down-and-out video store (that only stocks VHS tapes...which I find to be implausible) is erased when a magnetized Jack Black walks in (after being electrocuted...is that even possible?), so the bumbling characters played by Black and Mos Def must remake all the movies before the kindly old owner, played by Danny Glover, returns from a trip celebrating a great jazz legend. It really was as horrible as it sounds. At least the first twenty minutes or so. We didn't make it too far past that. I suggest you don't even make it to the video store to rent the drivel.

Paint by Number

35: The number of pounds I probably gained from gorging myself upon two bountiful Thanksgiving feasts and several days worth of leftovers. Maybe it wasn't a mistake that I made twice the needed amount of deviled eggs...

13: The number of days of work left before Christmas vacation. Husband and I haven't had a real vacation since our Honeymoon to Michigan in July 2007 (I can't believe we're almost in 2009!), so, we decided to take the entire week of Christmas off. We're not actually going anywhere interesting or engaging in any productive activity, but at least we won't be at work. However, knowing my luck, one or both of us will be dying of the flu or something during that week. I bet you ten bucks.

9: The number of glorious vacation days starting December 20.

5: The number of weeks since we put in our counteroffer to the bank for the house. That is, of course, after the 8 week wait for a response about the first offer. We signed the counteroffer and it was faxed on October 31, Halloween. Yes, that was 5 weeks ago. And still counting...

4: The number of Christmas presents left to buy. We only have two gifts to obtain for my extended family gift exchange, one more gift for Mother-In-Law, and one gift for an adorable little boy who looks like he could be our child if one didn't know better. Luckily, we pretty much know what all of the gifts are going to be. Hooray commercialism!

Seriously, I want to claim him as my own. Husband agrees. He's too cute. His entire face is much cuter, of course, but I'm afraid of the Internet Crazies, so this is my way of protecting half-face baby.

0: The number of minutes I have left before I should be getting back to work! And you too! I see you there, reading this blog at work. Shame on us.

Thanksgiving 2008: Take Two

We had Thanksgiving at my parents' house the Saturday following Thanksgiving with the whole family. My poor mother made all of the food ahead of time and froze everything, heating it up in the oven two hours before everyone arrived. Unfortunately, the stuffing and mashed potatoes were still frozen solid...thank goodness for microwave ovens...at least it turned out to be a funny story!

Husband: The Crazy

My Dear Cousin in all her loveliness.

My Daddy is the cutest.


Grandma and me. Her birthday was just a few days earlier, the day after her 61st wedding anniversary.


Megan and our maternal grandfather.


Just me. Possibly praying that the congenial atmosphere continues.

Thanksgiving 2008: Take One

Thanksgiving at Husband's parents' house on Turkey Day. My parents were invited over for the meal. We ate too much and laughed just enough!

The table was set with Mother-In-Law's lovely china.

Cornish game hens! They were delicious...and huge...I felt just a little bit bad because it seemed like eating baby turkeys.

Sitting down to the big meal. I seem to be the only one that looks marginally happy...

After dinner we went for a walk and got a picture with my mommy.

Brother-In-Law hug!

Perhaps this is why Husband could use several thousand dollars worth of chiropractic work...

Our second Thanksgiving together as married people!

Brother-In-Law and the family dog, Kasey. Otherwise known as The Greatest Picture Ever.

I hope your Horn of Plenty overflows...

Ah, Thanksgiving. After tomorrow, I will no longer have the ability to whine about the premature Christmas tidings. Maybe I'll even get a little perspective on our housing situation and forget my frustration for a day or two (after all, we aren't living out of our cars or like trolls under a bridge).

On the actual holiday, we will break bread with both of our parents and Husband's brother under one roof. No pheasant this year, but I won't complain too loudly. My mouth will be too full of Cornish game hen. Then, Saturday, we will endure my maternal extended family Thanksgiving get-together at my parents' house. I have no close extended family on my father's side. Saturday, I'm just hoping for no bloodshed...this is, after all, an election year.

I hope your Thanksgiving festivities go swimmingly and you offer up a little bit of appreciation for your current situation, something we should really do every single day.

Image from someecards.com

And the beat goes on...

About a week ago, we finally heard back about our counteroffer. Not surprisingly, the news we received was that we would receive an actual answer in...another two weeks. So, imagine our surprise when, over a bowl of ice cream and the local newspaper Saturday night, Husband's father suddenly announced an advertisement he had spied in the classifieds.

An advertisement for a sheriff's sale for the house we want to buy.

The auction will take place on January 15 at 10:00 a.m. I'm so glad the bank was professional enough to tell us what they were doing rather than letting us find out by reading it in the newspaper.

*Heavy sarcasm*

Apparently, our counteroffer is still valid, and we continue to wait to see if they will accept the offer before the auction takes place. I cannot understand why the bank ignores the fact that our offer is far more money than they would probably get if the house does in fact go to auction. Although we *might* get the house for less if we bid on it at the auction, we might also have some stiff competition that could end in a bidding war. Additionally, I discovered that, often in these situations, a check must be written for the full amount of the house on the day of the auction.

Because I have $100,000 just lying around in my bank account.

We would also not have the opportunity to get an inspection of the property (scary) and might have to absorb the cost of any liens that are currently on the house (past work, back taxes, etc.).

When we moved out of our dorm room at Dinky College and (TEMPORARILY) in with Husband's parents, we were excited about the prospect of purchasing our own home and settling in together, really starting our lives, grounded, no longer nomads. Now, over five months later, we are tired of the whole situation and harbor bitter feelings. This just isn't fun anymore, and it's very, very sad.

An Intrepid Traveler

The word "intrepid" is characterized by resolute fearlessness, fortitude, and endurance.

So, on second thought, maybe I'm not quite that kind of traveler.

I trekked to Indy this weekend simply to be with some of the most beautiful women on earth and also to spend money. Oodles of money. And, no, not all of it on myself.

I had never before driven to Indy, near Indy, or even seriously contemplated the city of Indy. Dedracula has been working on me for months (years?) now to come visit, and I finally made myself go, not because I didn't want to see her and her voluptuousness, but rather because of pure, unadulterated fear.

I've already chronicled my not-so-stellar driving experiences here and here, so I wasn't looking forward to certain death on 465. But, I made myself go because I needed to just jump in and do it. And I didn't die. Thanks to the anxiety brought on by some construction and a demand that I "SEEK ALTERNATE ROUTE," I probably took a few years off of my life, but I didn't die. I ended up having a lovely time and feel much more confident returning in the near future.

However, I don't think I'm ready for Chicago...

Three Cheers for Gainful Employment...

Yesterday marked Husband's one year anniversary at Big, Fancy University, and I couldn't be more proud of him! The beginning of this week also marked by five month anniversary at my new job. I can't believe how far we've come in just one year. We're out of our dorm room and into a house that has a kitchen (albeit, not our own house...) and we both have secure and successful positions. We're working on buying a home (by the way, we should be hearing something on our counteroffer in about two weeks!) and are able to spend a lot more time with family and friends.

Hip hip, hooray! Hip hip, hooray! Hip hip, HOORAY!

A good (short, I promise) read about Prop 8

Here is a link to an article I found through BlindIrishPirate's blog A Human Attempt at Flight from an artist who lives the consequences of the Prop 8 decision. A good read.

I thought the West Coast was supposed to be liberated, forward thinking, contemporary...logical? Yet another reason I am not terribly interested in visiting California.